


The Walker House

by talksmaths



Series: Half-Dead Hearts and Lifelong Ghosts [1]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Ghost Hunters, Band Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-15
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2019-06-10 14:35:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,102
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15293622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/talksmaths/pseuds/talksmaths
Summary: When Brendon finds out he's moved two houses away from the haunted Walker house, he can't help but stay away.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> "True love is like ghosts, which everyone talks about and few have seen."  
> \--La Rochefoucauld

“Please, please, _please_ \--”

“Stop! Shut up!” Spencer groans. “Fine. I’ll go.”

Brendon beams, childlike, and Spencer regrets everything. “Really? ‘Cause if we’re gonna go--”

Spencer shakes his head, setting down his coffee. “Not just us.”

Brendon pouts. Spencer thinks he’s really overdoing it.

“I’m bringing someone else,” Spencer says. “I can’t fucking handle you alone in there.”

Brendon’s worry turns to a confident smirk behind his own mug of coffee. Spencer rolls his eyes. “Who’s coming with, then?”

  
  
  


 

Spencer could almost hear Ryan roll his eyes. “Fat fucking chance. Do you think I’m stupid?”

Brendon intently watches Spencer, looking for a reaction with puppy-dog eyes. Spencer keeps his voice down, so Brendon can’t hear Ryan over the phone.

“No,” Spencer says, “but I...got myself into an agreement.”

Ryan laughs. “Sounds like your problem.”

“It’s our problem, Ross.”

Silence. Brendon’s eyes are unwavering.

“You owe me,” Spencer says, confidence rising in his voice. “You remem--”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ryan mutters on the other side of the line. “And I haven’t puked in your car since.”

“Maybe not, but you _have_ ruined more than one of my jackets. Beyond repair. And I don’t want them.”

Ryan sighs roughly, frustrated. “Yeah, yeah.”

Spencer smirks, and Brendon’s eyes illuminate. “Good. You’ll _love_ Brendon.”

“Wait, who? What are you--”

“See you Friday night, Ross,” Spencer says before hanging up. Beside him, Brendon looks so excited he could scream.

  
  
  


 

Though Spencer and Ryan lived only a few houses away, Brendon was across town. However, Brendon lived two doors down from the Walker house.

Brendon opened his door to two annoyed boys, but that didn’t make his excitement fade. Spencer introduced Ryan and Brendon, and Ryan looked at him skeptically.

“Why?” he asked, looking through the stuff Brendon was bringing with.

"Uh, to see if the house really is haunted, of course,” Brendon said, attitude annoying Ryan even further. He looked at Spencer and rolled his eyes, and then they followed Brendon to the Walker house.

“You know,” Ryan said in a low voice, “they say they never buried the bodies.”

Brendon spun around, face paling. Spencer elbowed Ryan, making him snicker.

“Too easy,” Ryan said, and Brendon grimaced at him.

The door was locked, but windows had been broken in, and they crawled through those. Inside, they stood in the living room, and Brendon sat down. Spencer followed, and Ryan gave in.

Brendon set down a candle, lit it in the middle of the circle made with their bodies, and held his hands out. “We have to complete the circle,” he explained.

“Whatever,” Ryan muttered, taking Spencer’s hand before Brendon’s clammy, drenched hand. _Ew_.

“O-okay,” Brendon said. “I’ll lead this.” He cleared his throat, rolled his shoulders, tipped his chin up, and let his eyes fall closed.

“Jonathan Walker, if you’re here, give us a sign.”

After a few moments of silence, Brendon opens his eyes. “You have to close yours too, guys. C’mon.”

Ryan watches Spencer’s and Brendon’s eyes close, but he doesn’t close his. Was Spencer really this gullible?

Brendon posed himself again. “Jonathan, if you’re here, please give us a sign. We want to help you pass on to the other side.”

At this, Ryan can’t be patient any longer.

“Okay, _fuck_ this--”

“ _Ryan!_ ” Brendon whisper-yells, eyes glowing in the candlelight for only a moment before the candle is suddenly extinguished and topped. Ryan can feel the warm wax touch the exposed inch of skin between his pants and sock, and he jumps up. Brendon is almost out of the windowsill when Ryan feels Spencer’s eyes on his back. He makes it to the windowsill and realizes Spencer beat Brendon out of the house.

Ryan feels a chill, but he won’t let it register on his face.

Spencer is wide-eyed, Brendon panting, but Ryan keeps his face solemn, still unchanging.

“Well,” Spencer starts, “that was--”

“We gotta go back.”

Ryan blinks. “What?”

Brendon nods. “We have to. There was something there. I’m sure of it, and--”

“Then have fun,” Ryan says, waving off Brendon and his friend and starting toward his car. “I’m done with this.”

“Ryan!” Brendon says, running up to keep up behind him. “We need you for this.”

Ryan looks at Spencer behind him. Under the moonlight, his eyes are transparent. Spencer’s not trying to play along with Brendon to get him off his back. He’s involved, now. And scared shitless. Brendon’s eyes are vibrant, dark, and pleading.

“You being a dick brought him out,” Brendon explains. “If you keep pretending you don’t believe--”

“I’m not pretending,” Ryan says seriously. Brendon looks defeated, but it doesn’t stop him.

“Whatever,” Brendon says. His irritation rubs Ryan wrong, angering him. “You being a complete asshole seems to piss him off, too.”

Ryan squints. “A candle went out. Big fucking whoop.”

Brendon steps closer. “You ran out pretty fast.”

Ryan stares him down, but Brendon doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t know what to say that wouldn’t end in Brendon dragging out whatever fear Ryan has. Could have. Doesn’t have now, no, he’s not scared at all, not--

“Well?” Brendon says softly.

Ryan clenches his jaw. Spencer is waiting for his answer.

“Fine, _fine_ , I’ll fucking--”

“Great!” Brendon beams, smiling victoriously. “I’ll see you two tomorrow night.” This time, it’s Brendon waving off, strutting at least a little toward his house. Once next to Ryan, Spencer sighs.

“Goddamnit,” Ryan sighs. “God fucking damnit.”

Spencer claps a hand on his shoulder. “Welcome to the club.”


	2. Chapter 2

The papers in Brendon’s hands ruffle together, scratching, fluttering in the wind.

“Quit shaking,” Ryan says. Brendon’s jaw clenches.

They’re outside of the house once again, this time Brendon more prepared with more candles, more papers, and--

“Oh,  _ fuck _ no.”

Kid’s got a fucking Ouija board.

  
  
  
  
  


Once inside, Brendon leads them upstairs to the Walker parents’ bedroom.

“This is where the first murder occurred,” Brendon explains. Spencer and Ryan already knew this--they’d lived in this town their whole lives--but neither stop him. Ryan, for one, wants to see where he’s going.

“And?” Ryan offers.

“Maybe, like, this was the breaking point for him,” Brendon offers. He couldn’t tell that Ryan was just riling him up. What a fucking idiot.

“Alright,” Ryan laughs. He can’t see Brendon’s reaction in the dark.

Brendon makes a circle out of the five candles. “Sit inside of them,” Brendon says.

“Oh, to make the circle?” Ryan mocks.

Brendon’s mouth is a tight line. He points the lighter at Ryan. “Sit down, you prick.”

He and Spencer do. Brendon brings out the board from its box.

“Everyone put four fingers on the plan--”

“We  _ know _ , Brendon. We’re not all that stupid.”

Brendon looks mad, past annoyed.

“Quit,” Spencer whispers. Ryan tuts.

After a few breaths, Brendon spreads out the papers beside him.

“W-we welcome the spirit of Jonathan,” Brendon starts, voice wavering. “I am Brendon, and these are Ryan and Spencer.”

Awkward silence. What was Brendon waiting for?

“Uhh, anyway, we just--we want to know why you did it.”

Ryan rolls his eyes and removes his hands. “I’m ou--”

“Don’t leave the circle!” Brendon yells, piercing the silence. 

Ryan blinks. He doesn’t leave.

He watches as Spencer and Brendon’s faces pale. Their fingers move. He bets Spencer is doing it.  By candlelight, he can see what is being spelled out. But Brendon reads it off anyway.

“G--go away? E--get out? O--...o?”

Brendon doesn’t know what to think. But the planchette doesn’t stop.

“R..? G…? Spencer looks at Ryan. He’s frozen, eyes wide, still leaning over the board.

“E..?” Brendon finishes. “I don’t--”

The papers suddenly swirl around the candled circle, rising like a tornado before falling. Spencer stands, but Brendon screams. “Stop! I have to close it!” He scrambles, searching through his papers. Straining to read under the poor light. “Uhh, g-goodbye, the door is closed, and--”

All five candles are extinguished together.

They can’t run out fast enough. Ryan doesn’t try to hide his fear.

All three are panting, running the block to Brendon’s place. In front of the door, Brendon looks at his papers. He shows them to Ryan, hands shaking.

There’s three jagged lines through each sheet.

Brendon’s eyes roll back in his head and he drops like he’s dead.

  
  
  
  


They manage to drag him into the house and drop him on the living room floor. Maybe a little too hard--his head hits the ground with a thud. But it’s enough to wake him.

Brendon starts breathing deeply after a few moments, once he remembers what they were doing. He looks imploringly, wide-eyed between Spencer and Ryan.

“Brendon,” Spencer starts calmly. “Do you know a George?”

He shakes his head. Spencer looks at Ryan.

Ryan feels nausea creep into his stomach. He can’t speak.

“Brendon, that’s Ryan’s name. Real first name.”

Brendon looks like he might faint again, but Spencer helps him to his feet.

“Th-then, we have to go back,” Brendon says.

Ryan starts to oppose, but Brendon talks over him.

“We need you Jonathan  _ knows _ . This isn’t just wind. It’s something smart.”

Ryan makes himself look unimpressed. “Spencer moved the planchette.”

Spencer’s face grows stiff. “You know I didn’t.”

“So, what, am I supposed to believe it made you spell out my name?”

Silence. 

“Really, guys. I’m fucking done. This is bullshit, and you know it.” He glares at Spencer for making him look idiotic. He was right, after all. Not his fault.

On his way out, he glances at the papers on the kitchen counter, the scratches through them, all the wrinkles from being crumpled desperately in Brendon’s hand.

Brendon and Spencer were watching him.

It wasn’t his fault they were stupid.


	3. Chapter 3

“ _ Fuck _ ,” Ryan says, coughing. “Where’d you get this shit?”

Spencer shrugs, taking the joint back. “I have a cousin.”

“Of course you do.”

Spencer smiles, picking up his guitar again.

It was close to 4am, and Ryan hadn’t slept at all after they went to the Walker house. He invited Spencer over so he wouldn’t have to be alone. Not that he would ever admit that to Spencer, but he didn’t have to--Ryan had known him so long, he knew Ryan was scared deep down.

In order to get Ryan to talk about it, they had to do something else. Like every other difficult topic they’ve shared with each other, they did it over the sound of music.

And the smell of weed.

Ryan nods to himself, keeping beat as they play together. Something’s missing, but Ryan can’t put his finger on it. He grows frustrated.

“Writer’s block,” Ryan offers.

Spencer nods.

“What do you think?” 

Ryan shrugs, fingers humming along his guitar. “Brendon seems a little nuts.”

“He’s definitely...something,” Spencer says.

This time, Ryan nods, distracted.

Spencer takes another hit. “I invited him over here.”

Ryan blinks, looking up at him. “What? Why?”

“He can play,” Spencer says, handing the joint to Ryan again. “Figure we could talk it all out together.”

Ryan sighs before taking a large hit. “Fine. But if he brings any ghosts over, I’m leaving.”

Spencer smiles, then coughs. “He doesn’t bring them. You bring them  _ out _ .”

Ryan rolls his eyes.

Spencer knows what he really feels.

  
  
  
  
  


“You guys know any Weezer?”

“We’re not barbarians,” Ryan says.

Spencer gives his guitar to Brendon, and they start playing “Say It Ain’t So.” Spencer leans back into the old leather chair, way too fucked up to play any music. As the vocals near, Ryan prepares to sing, but is taken aback when Brendon begins.

He’ll never admit it, but he’s amazed at Brendon’s voice. It’s full and strong, trembling and sometimes pitchy, but nothing like his. Ryan didn’t have the strength behind his own singing voice that Brendon did.

Spencer tries to shoot Ryan a smug told-you-so look, but he’s so far gone it makes Ryan laugh. Brendon, unaware of what’s going on, stops playing and smiles at Ryan’s laugh.

“You sound really good, man,” Spencer says. Brendon nods as a thank-you, turning his smile inward. Ryan is surprised at how humble Brendon can be with his obnoxious personality.

“Have you slept at all?” Ryan asks. He feels exhausted himself, but Brendon is full of energy, and Spencer--well, he was too far gone to be considered conscious.

Brendon shakes his head. “I went back.”

Ryan blinks at him. “What?”

Brendon nods, reaching across the table to help himself to another one of Spencer’s joints. “Nothing happened anyway,” he explains. Ryan watches his lips close around the joint, how the smoke leaks out between them as he talks. “Because you weren’t there.”

Spencer tries another told-you-so look. Ryan groans.


End file.
